Aftermath
by Lillz
Summary: Young POV. Het. Clean fluff. Canon, set End of Season 1, just after the Lucian Incursion. Young, Rush, way too much alcohol, deep conversations, honesty- shocking, no? , support, comfort, hint of friendship. cameo by TJ. I hope you like


I haven't been able to finish C4 of AaC- this is largely why. RL factored in, of course, but I watched Subversion at the weekend, and this little bunny appeared. As the summary says, a somewhat hesitant but genuine heart to heart between our two lead characters. Copious amounts of alcohol helps. Hell, who doesn't want to see a drunk Rush in need of some comfort? And of course, me being evil the only one to approach him is Young. Meh, we make do I suppose :-p

My guess at the immediate events following the Lucians' attempt to take the ship, and their subsequent expulsion. After the clean up, Rush decides he's had enough, and chooses to drown his sorrows, and with best of intentions Young intends to stop him. Things never go as planned when these two are involved though, do they, and just who ends up comforting who? No smut/romance/implications/insinuations/etc. just a nice clean slightly fluffy fic.

Not mine. UK English. Umm, unbeta'd, so blame me, please review! Err….

Enjoy!

- o0o -

"How long has he been here?"

"Not long after things quieted down. He hasn't moved. Not really spoken to anyone either. Unless you include swearing…."

Young sighed. _I don't need this…_ still, the man was his responsibility, whether either of them liked that fact or not.

"How much has he drunk?"

"Honestly?" Brody shrugged apologetically. "I've lost count, and he'd started before I arrived. I'm surprised he's still going, you know. He should be out of it by now. Or dead."

_Wonderful._ He couldn't see this being pretty, particularly not given the Doctors' usual temperament. With a pat to the other mans' shoulder, the Colonel made his way over to the older scientist sitting alone at one of the far tables. Fortunately, it wasn't busy in the Still-room, but he knew that if it all kicked off, which it likely would, it'd be common gossip all over the ship within a few hours. _That's the last thing we need right now, another pissing contest between me and him._ Things were barely settled, and everyone was still on edge; the Lucians had been either chased off the ship or killed- by necessity, not to mention practicality, there were no prisoners taken. Scott, James and Greer had led parties through the inhabitable and reachable areas looking for stragglers and come up empty; TJ was currently finishing up with the last of the minor injuries, having run triage and dealt with the saveable serious patients earlier that day. The scientists, Rush included, had set to work repairing the damage they'd sustained, and when everything was finally under control Rush had slipped away, unnoticed, until Brody had gone for a drink himself and found him tucked away on his own. Much as he resented the necessity of having to deal with a highly inebriated Rush, he was grateful Brody had called him; he wouldn't want anyone else trying to deal with the man right now. Manoeuvring round the table, he slowly sat on the bench opposite, not wishing to startle him, and studied the other man. He was unsurprised when he received no acknowledgement.

"How long have you been here, Rush?"

"Nae idea. Ask Brody. Although, I'm guessing ye already have." His final words were followed with the raising of the beaker, and the Doctor took a healthy swig. There was, strangely, nothing bitter or scathing about his tone; he was simply stating a fact. The expected outburst at the intrusion upon his self-imposed solitude didn't come, no barbed, disparaging comments designed to make him angry were uttered. The dark gaze remained focused somewhere else, and Young hesitated, realising in a flash of insight how deeply he was out of his depth. He changed tact, hoping to elicit a more normal reaction from the usually acerbic man.

"Don't you think you've had enough?"

"Nope. I'm still conscious. I can still see half straight, too, but I'm working on that." _Well, that worked._

"If you wanna knock yourself out that badly, go get something from TJ."

_That_ got a reaction, and the gaze snapped up to meet his, burning with condescending scorn as the mouth twisted into a scowl. "Oh, tha's a fantastic idea! Let's take drugs that I cannae wake myself up from. Dunna try and be helpful, Colonel- you're not very good at it."

The fire died and the eyes dropped, staring at the table while he rolled the beaker between his hands. _Nightmares. At least I now have a good idea what the problem is. _He wasn't surprised. Sliding along the bench he snagged a mug, not caring that it had been used, and settled again. Pouring a healthy measure for himself from one of the bottles sitting on the table, he topped up Rush's, smiling slightly at the Doctors confused expression, before raising the mug and taking a long swallow. He shuddered.

"I dunnae need a babysitter, Colonel. Piss off."

"Heaven forefend, Rush, that you should ever need _anything." _He sighed, determining not to wind him up _too_ much, and set the bottle between them. "I know you don't. I'm just not going anywhere."

They sat a while drinking in silence, not particularly comfortable, but Rush made no further attempt to send him packing, and after a while he relaxed slightly, the tired slouch to his shoulders becoming more pronounced. Young felt a pang of sympathy, an emotion he could_ really_ do without where Rush was concerned. Still, it was there, and it was justified. This…it shouldn't have happened once, let alone twice, and this time not only had the man been tortured, he had been forced to betray them and _Destiny_ by giving the Lucians what they needed to crack the ninth Chevron. His thoughts circled in upon the fact that he was responsible for Rush being in both situations, even though this time the other man had volunteered; once he'd abandoned him to die, and the second time he should have broken the link formed by the communication stones and hadn't. Admittedly, they both knew that Rush being with the Lucians had ultimately served 'the greater good', but even so- he should have pulled him out. He'd known Rush was being held, knew what the consequences were likely to be, but had not done the most obvious thing to help him. He took a long drink, and went back to watching the Doctor. Strangely, he found he believed Rush's account of events, without question. _Destiny _was possibly the only thing important enough to the scientist that he wouldn't willingly give it up. It wasn't something the scientist could be sold on, and to have actually done so would be sitting heavily on the other man. He took in the bruises on the pale face that were already beginning to change colour, and the forlorn, exhausted look in his eyes. Perhaps it was the alcohol combined with his own weariness serving to make him unusually charitable, but he even believed Rush felt guilt over those who had died in the subsequent fire-fight resulting from the Lucians attempted incursion.

He refilled their 'glasses'. Rush drained his far faster than was healthy making Young wince, and though he wondered if the man even tasted it he held his tongue. Following on swiftly from that thought, he found himself wondering how it was humanly possible to drink Brody's moonshine so quickly- paint stripper, he'd heard it called, an accurate description. Rush poured for himself again, not bothering to offer Young whose mug was still mostly full; when he spoke into the quiet Young refocused through the light haze settling between his ears. _Barely a couple of mouthfuls- I'm more tired than I thought._

"Next time I get a brilliant idea, remind me o' how well this one went."

"Will do." Young quirked a half smile.

"There's five words I never thought I'd utter. 'I'm tired o' being tortured'. Go figure."

"Yeah, it's scary what becomes habit, sometimes. You really wanna try and break that."

Rush snorted in amusement, ducking his head, shoulders shaking, obviously fighting the urge to do something as undignified as giggle, and the Colonel found himself grinning at the scientists' response, oddly pleased with himself. Really, this was taking morbid humour to a whole new level. Still, it eased the tension, and both settled more comfortably. Absently, Rush shifted, then flinched as he rested the weight of his head through his jaw on to his knuckles. Straightening as much as was possible for someone nearing complete intoxication, he lightly touched the swollen flesh.

"Much as I think Telford deserved a good thrashing, I'd rather next time it wasn't my face."

"I'll see what I can do, although I'm pretty sure Greer enjoyed it."

"I'll bet. Two birds, one fist. Ye should probably tighten his leash a little, Colonel. Or find him some valium. Tha' man is far too volatile." Young snorted. True, but he wasn't going to admit that to Rush.

"Stop pissing him off." The Doctor rolled his eyes.

"But Colz, it's so much fun!"

"Urgh. Please. Don't do that again. Ever. I _will_ shoot you." He wondered briefly how it was that the scientist was still coherent, and couldn't help the smile that formed, nor the chuckle that escaped when Rush tried to rest his chin on his hand and missed. He raised the mug to his lips and took a deep pull, barely feeling the usual aftershock. Really, it was amazing that one could become immune to this stuff so quickly. And shocking. _Actually, it's probably killing all the nerves and taste buds…_ he studied the contents as thoughtfully as his fuzzy brain would allow, trying to remember...

"Good for two things," the scientist drawled. "Degreasing engines an' killin' brain cells."

_That was it! I think it was Eli…_

"Eli." Rush confirmed his unspoken words. Or had he spoken out loud? It was hard to tell. "The Matrix, apparently."

As they lapsed back into silence, Young realised he should probably slow down. Wrapping his hands around the mug turned out to be an effort in coordination, and 'probably' became 'definitely'. _I need to get Brody to start diluting this stuff._ The man opposite him was unquestionably worse for wear; it may have been Telford on the receiving end of his and Greers' ministrations, but it was Rush who had to bear the lingering after effects- not to mention the shit the scientist had been caught up in when the Lucians finally came through and all hell had broken lose. Without the Doctors' warning… he swallowed, hard. Starving Rush/Telford of air had been a terrible gamble that had miraculously paid off- he'd needed to speak to the Doctor but without permanently breaking the connection, and given how little they knew of how the stones actually worked, it was a gamble that could easily have cost Rush his life. Young knew the risks; one of the reasons he hadn't bothered telling anyone else what he had planned was that they would only try and argue him out of it- the other being he wanted their reactions to be genuine for Telford's benefit. Rush had understood, though; he'd known that the moment the scientist had opened his eyes and looked up at him. No recrimination, no anger, only slight, fleeting confusion in that gaze- he'd grasped the truth the moment he'd seen Young, and without rancour had succinctly told him what the Lucians had planned. In less than ten seconds he'd given Young everything he'd needed to plan for the coming battle, and then he'd been gone, replaced again by Telford. _We would have been screwed._

"Channing?" The soft voice fell into the stillness like a stone.

"Still in the infirmary. TJ says if he lasts the night he should pull through…" neither needed to say, however, that the young Airmans' injuries had been severe. Rush passed a trembling hand over his eyes.

"Christ, I need a fag." Young frowned, puzzled, though the word nagged at him.

"Fag?"

"A fag. A smoke. A cigarette. A puff. Lil' white an' brown stick."

"Shut up Rush."

"Just so as ye know."

"Thanks. Really." The Colonel smiled slightly. This was most definitely not the way he had envisioned their conversation going when he had sat down. It was, he decided, turning out to be quite an amusing turn of events. There was a moment of silence, and his humour faded as he studied the other mans' drawn features, noticed the way his hands gripped the beaker tightly to keep them from shaking. When he spoke again, he found his own tone surprisingly gentle, striving for a lightness he didn't feel.

"I'd get you one if someone had any."

"Meh. Pro'ably for th' best. Ye know, Gloria was after me to quit for _years._ She always used to tell me I'd get cancer given how much I smoked. Lovin' the irony." His tone was so bitter it hurt.

_Damn._ He held still, brain unable to form any sort of response, suitable or otherwise. Since they'd met again on the Icarus project, Rush had mentioned his wife by name so rarely he could count it on the fingers of one hand. She was _not _a topic for discussion, ever. The general consensus back then was that Rush's bad attitude had driven her away, though he still wore the ring; he too had thought that, had shared the common, smug opinion that the man was just too much work for anyone. It had been some time later that he had found out she'd been fighting cancer and had actually died, and he remembered the guilt he had felt; even now it twisted in his gut. He released a silent sigh.

"Rush-"

"Ya know, I'm actually sorry I disappointed ye."

He frowned. _Quicksilver.._._ok, we won't go there_. "Disappointed me?"

"By not being the traitor. I know ye were hoping it was me. "He threw the Colonel a half-hearted smirk when Young looked at him in surprise, stiffening and instantly on the defence. "I know ye better than ye think I do."

Young sighed heavily, trying desperately to keep pace with the rapidly changing directions their conversations kept taking. Really, he shouldn't be surprised that Rush had guessed. Irritated, he picked up on the last bit, focused his somewhat less than lucid attention on the implication.

"Really? And why do you think that?"

"Because…" he drank. Cleared his throat, making a concerted effort to speak clearly. "Me being a traitor is fine. Not acceptable, maybe, but not… unexpected. Is it." Not a question. _No, it's not_. _Where are you going with this?_ "But Telford? If it was me, it'd be okay, easy t' accept, easier t' believe. But him? He was a good man. Outstanding career. Medals. Commendations. Honourable. The whole shebang. Ye didnae want t' believe he could be a turn coat- such a thing was beyond understanding, completely impossible. So ye would rather it were me, ye could live with it being me…an' I'm sorry, I really am." His tone was genuine, his expression sorrowful. "It's simply that you'd rather he hadn't been the traitor; anyone but him." He drank again, lingering over the mouthful, and his voice was very quiet as he finished. "For once it's not even personal, it's not about me…"

It was difficult to absorb exactly what Rush had said, and he sat there for several minutes, stunned; comprehension completely deserted him. It was evident that the man had given this a great deal of thought, though Young had no idea why. _Facing himself, perhaps?_ Covering the numbness of his mind by slowly draining the mug, forgetting his earlier intentions, he forced himself to look inside, confront the feelings this disaster had given rise to. It was true. It would be so much _easier_ to deal with if it were Rush, but Telford? That hurt, a deep ache that wouldn't go away. Nicholas Rush he would have killed and not looked back; with David he mourned the loss of what they had once had, and felt a vast grief for the future friendship that was forever denied them. They had been good friends, and he missed that- the sudden loss of that friendship should have been the first indication that something was deeply wrong, but he'd ignored it, put it down to the covert work David had been doing. _I should have dug. Forced him to face me…_He had chosen Rush over Telford at the end, though in truth the choice had long since been made for him; he had even offered his compatriot a way out that had been decisively turned down, and, though he knew there was no saving his old friend, the weight of guilt was crushing, the blood on his hands burned. If David could be broken like that, made to serve so easily the will of another, what hope was there for anyone else? He didn't notice that Rush had refilled his mug.

"If ye think along those lines you'll go mad."

_Damn it!_ How could Rush be six sheets to the wind, unable to even focus on the table, and yet _still_ be able to see into him like that? It was a knack that irritated the hell out of Young, most usually because the Doctor was unnecessarily blunt about what he saw, about peoples' flaws and failings and weaknesses. He had the infuriating ability to make these things something to be ashamed of, embarrassed about, rather than something to improve upon and overcome. The man was, he suspected, a psychologists' nightmare. The thought made him grin, humour overtaking his melancholy.

"What?"

"You, a shrink and a ringside seat." The scientist blinked, stared at him for a long moment, and then laughed aloud. He joined in, unable to resist, and realised too late that there was a somewhat brittle, hysterical edge to their laughter; it took a while to calm down. Both had tears on their cheeks that they shakily brushed at, and Rush clutched at his badly wounded shoulder, obviously pained. Studiously ignoring the stares from the few other occupants he could see over the scientists shoulder – _it'll be interesting when _this_ gets around, _he thought absently – he was more concerned that Rush appeared unable to catch his breath than with anything that might be said later. It occurred to the Colonel in a flash of sobriety that TJ was gonna kill the pair of them when she found out about this. After a long moment, the Doctor shuddered, and relaxed, grimacing slightly.

"Oww."

It was only because Rush had unwittingly moved that he was still alive. The round intended to kill him had torn through his shoulder rather than his heart, and though the damage was still serious, it only amounted to chipped bone, ripped muscle and destroyed minor blood vessels. 'Only'. Five inches left, and it would have obliterated the right pulmonary vein according to TJ; six inches and he'd have been instantly dead. Gooseflesh crawled over his arms, and he felt the alcohol lying heavily in his stomach. _He should never have been left alone,_ he thought dully. Rush could easily have been another name on an already painfully long list. _I knew Telford was onboard; I should have had Scott stay with him. Or even Greer. Stupid!_

"No' your fault." The voice was soft, slurred, and he looked up. Rush was watching him, eyes barely able to focus, but fixed on him just the same.

"Six dead, Rush."

"Sixty one alive," Rush countered, "invasion successfully repelled. Ye may no' like it, Colonel, but ye _can't_ save everyone, no matter how much you try. Until you accept that-"

"-I know," he snapped instantly. _Why does it always come back to this? _"I'll never be the strong leader these people need."

The scientists' eyes bored into him, then he continued, completely ignoring the fact that the other man had spoken. "-you're never going t' be able t' forgive yourself. The weight o' the world is too heavy for any one person. Anyone who tries to empathise with everyone, t' carry tha' magnitude o' guilt, will only succeed in bein' torn apart. And _until_ ye accept, an' learn, an' move on, you may as well be pissin' in the wind. There's only so much pain a person can hold in their head before it drives them mad." He trailed off, emotionally wrung out, spent, weariness overtaking him.

Young was again left speechless. _Maybe I should get him drunk more often_. He was certainly a completely different person, although truthfully a large part of that was probably due to recent events. He had no come back, no response. What the hell could he say? Again, the scientist made perfect sense, and for once Young wasn't even infuriated by being left wrong footed by the man. _Damn it, man! I'm meant to be talking sense into you…_ He shook himself.

"Rush…you and I; we have to try harder." The Doctor was drinking again. Lowering the beaker, he gazed into it for a while before shrugging.

"Didnae work so well last time, did it?"

"I don't think either of us _really_ expected it to. Did we." It wasn't a question "You said it yourself; 'we're on our own out here', I just don't think we realised exactly how true that was at the time. We only have each other out here, and you and I spend most of our time fighting." He sighed. "We can't undo the past, but let's try and make the future work." _Would he even remember if he agrees? Will I?_ He swirled the dregs in the mug, then held still as Rush unsteadily filled it again. After a while the scientist looked up at him, eyes searching, before shrugging again, a curious motion in someone already leaning to one side.

"We can try, I guess." Young nodded. It would do. He changed the subject.

"Something I don't understand –_behave," _he chided, before Rush had chance to jump in with one of his usually demeaning comments. The scientist let it slide, though there remained a slight upwards turn on his lips. "The Lucians attacked Icarus. Why? How did blowing up the planet factor into their plans? Or did it go wrong?"

The smile died, to be replaced by a somewhat haunted look. "Nae, events unfolded as predicted. Almost. They wanted the base destroyed, but we weren't supposed t' go through the gate using the ninth chevron- they expected us t' go t' somewhere in either our galaxy or Pegasus. I think we surprised them." Resting his left elbow on the tabletop, he propped his cheek on his fist, rolling the beaker around using the other hand. "Our project was meant to stall while theirs continued. We were meant to waste our time trying t' find another suitable planet, while they already had one and simply needed t' catch up." He could hear the underlying anger in the other mans' tone.

"But how does that help them? I still don't get how they intended to solve their existing problems."

"Simple." The smile was twisted, bitter. Young reached across and, gripping the scientists' wrist in one hand, with the other he gently prised the beaker from fingers that threatened to crack it. Realising what he was doing, Rush let go, and continued.

"We would all go back to our lives for a while, so to speak. I'd gotten as far as I could with the Icarus project, an' there was nothing else requiring my attention at the SGC. I'd probably have gone back to teaching, for a bit. You know, off base. Without security. Of course, the military would have known where I was for when they needed me, and if they knew…"

"Telford would know." Young finished, comprehension dawning.

"No one would have realised I was missing till it was too late."

A chill silence settled as the Colonel was struck by the scope of the ramifications. They would never have found him. The Lucians would have taken _Destiny_ unchallenged. They would never have gotten to the ship. Would never even have _known _about the ship. _How close we were to loosing everything and not even realising it._

He felt suddenly tired. He couldn't blame the Doctor for being so damn depressed; this entire situation was completely fucked up. Lifting the bottle again, he frowned at it; he had to open it and peer inside to realise it was empty. _Annoying. _He didn't much fancy staggering to the dispenser to refill it. Casting around for something else to say – he _really_ didn't want to finish on such a morose subject – he heard the Doctor sigh.

"Cheerful." _Yeah…_evidently, Rush was thinking along the same lines. Inspiration struck. _Well, I never know when he'll next be so open._

"What do you miss? Aside from the obvious, I mean."

"Mmm. Peanut butter. Toast. Peanut butter 'n toast. Or crumpet. None o' tha' peanut butter an' jelly shite. My music collection. Books. Glasgow in general. Th' garden. Silly things, like blue-tac, nail clippers, clean socks, toothpaste, a comb. Butter, sugar, fried bacon. I've never been so bloody healthy, an' I hate it." The scientist chuckled. "You?"

"Similar, actually." That was surprising. "Nice greasy fry-up, bread, real oranges. Music, DVDs. Google- wouldn't that be handy? Emily's cooking. Beer. Sandy beaches. My house. Having a dog. More than one change of clothes." Rush snickered. "Deodorant. Air freshener. Toothpaste." Rush was nodding, his movements comically over-done.

"I wonder if we'll all become immune t' each other eventually? I know, we hav' showers tha' work, but it dunnae take long."

"Probably. If we're here long enough." He winced- he didn't want to get into that. The scientist seemed to be in agreement for he nodded again; that wasn't a subject for now, not when they were doing so well at avoiding the topics that usually caused raging arguments between them. With another sigh, Rush straightened, and Young choked with laughter when he went too far and slumped the other way instead. The scientist blinked dolefully, obviously surprised, and tried again. It was an effort to hold himself upright, and Young couldn't help but see how exhausted he was, barely able to keep his eyes open. _Maybe the moonshine will do the job. Lord knows I won't be waking up anytime soon tomorrow._ With the exaggerated care of someone truly and totally drunk, Rush slowly slid along the bench and levered himself to his feet, gripping the table edge to keep his balance. A soft 'Oh' escaped him, and Young smirked at the glazed expression.

"Really time fer bed. G'night, Colonel." It was hilarious to watch the usually self-controlled scientist pick his way to the exit, waving goodbye to Brody with a wide arc of his arm that set him to wobbling. How he made it that far Young didn't know; even sitting down his own legs felt like jelly. It wasn't till Rush was passing the doorway, able finally to cling to the wall, that Young belatedly realised he probably wouldn't make it back to his quarters. His own attempt to stand was instantly curtailed- his legs simply wouldn't cooperate with the desired movement, and instead he shuffled to the end of the bench and mimicked Rush, right down to the soft noise when the world swam around him and the blood roared in his ears. God, but he hadn't been this pissed in years. The world was a riot of fuzzy, unfocused colour, his hands blurred before him, and he doubted very much that he was walking a straight line when he took off, but he managed to keep the exit before him; with one hand on the metal wall he caught up with the scientist, not by walking fast, but rather by simply not walking as slowly.

"For Gods' sake, ye dunnae need t' follow me!"

"If that's how you feel, do us the courtesy next time of drinking yourself into oblivion in your own quarters. Then I wouldn't feel the need to make sure you actually got back there."

"Tosser."

"Yep."

Rush didn't chase him away though. Suspecting he'd be instantly shaken off were he to take the scientists arm and try and guide him, thus ruining the hazy peace that had settled between them, he settled for shuffling along at his side, content to keep whatever pace Rush set. _Oh, but I'm gonna be sick in the morning._ One thing was sure, however; Rush was gonna be worse. They stopped at an intersection, and waited. When the scientist made no attempt to move, Young turned his head. About to quip 'traffic?' he paused- the man looked genuinely confused. With a sigh he unfolded himself off the wall, and grabbed for the scientists' sleeve, missed, and tried again. _Third time lucky? _Resting his hand on his left shoulder instead, he gave what he hoped was a gentle pull, and guided him down the right walkway.

There was no way of telling how long it took them, and Young was glad Rush never bothered locking his door. The scientist sprawled onto the bed, belly down, and Young sat on the edge beside him; for a long time, he simply watched him sleep. In truth, he couldn't really move; his body felt like lead and just as uncooperative- even turning his head required monumental effort, and he had him self nicely perched. Any urge he should have felt to be elsewhere had been drowned by the alcohol, and the swaying of his vision in time to the lurching of his stomach suggested that moving was probably a dumb idea. His mind wandered for a while, and he didn't realise there was someone kneeling on the floor next to him until cool fingers lifted his head, and he found himself staring at a person, blurred and distorted by the half light.

"Oh, Everett. Silly…" TJ? He fixed her with a watery smile.

"Hey." At least she didn't look furious. Yet. There was always tomorrow. Or was it today, now? Meh…

Carefully letting go, she moved to Rush. With effort, she manoeuvred limp and heavy limbs till she had him lying on his side, one arm out, the other tucked beneath his cheek, supporting his head, then she pulled up his top leg bent at the knee to keep him stable. She used the pillows, padding them against his back to prevent him from rolling over, and looked about. Rising, she moved out of Youngs' line of sight, and came back with a sheet that she draped over the sleeping figure. Shoes off next. Gentle fingers brushed damp hair back from his face, and she traced the line of his jaw before turning to Young.

"You're going to regret this, you know." _Yeah, I know… _"You should go sleep it off, I'll stay and keep an eye on him." Something worrying nagged at him, and he shook his head.

"He's going to be royally sick when he wakes, and he's not going to want you to see him in that state. He'll be humiliated. All that manly bonding you two have just done will be wasted- yes, Brody called me," she explained. _Oh. Wait. Manly bonding?_

Fragments of their conversations surfaced, then, and he remembered what Rush had implied about not being able to sleep without nightmares, and knew he didn't want TJ faced with a disorientated, frightened, drunken man, one who would undoubtedly be in pain without understanding why. She wouldn't be able to deal with that, especially not being nearly six months pregnant. No, he'd stay.

"TJ…" he frowned. That wasn't his voice. Clearing his throat he tried again, but it didn't seem to help much. "It'll be okay. I think he'd rather it weren't you. He…didn't think he'd sleep well. Bad dreams, you know." She sighed; yes, she did know.

"I'll go find a couple of bowls and some pillows." Laying a hand on either cheek, she placed a lingering kiss upon his forehead before leaving as quietly as she'd arrived. _Angel._

Slipping off the bed onto his knees, he crawled over to the wall and made himself comfortable. _A blanket too, would be nice._ He watched Rush, dead to the world.

Wondering how long their new-found spirit of cooperation would last, he finally allowed his own exhaustion and intoxication to roll over him, and closed his eyes.

- o0o -

There you go :) not a lot too it, I know; no violence, action, etc, but I thought y'all might enjoy it

Normal broadcasting will resume promptly!


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